Author: li0nessawake

A wild woman that has freed herself from the cage of convention. I am more than they decided I would be. I am no longer satisfied being the little submissive lamb while the lioness lies caged and starving. I am unchained, uncaged, unafraid... I am Lioness Awake

Lately I have been thinking about the strange war against the power of woman that has been going on since the beginning of time it seems. I look back at all the religious stuff I have been taught in my life, starting with Adam and Eve. How Eve was tempted by the serpent in the garden and ate of the fruit of knowledge of good and evil. How she subsequently seduced Adam into eating the fruit as well. Then was pretty much cursed for all eternity because of it. She was cursed with painful childbirth and she was cursed with a subservient position to that of her male counterpart.

“Unto the woman he said, I will greatly multiply thy sorrow and thy conception; in sorrow thou shalt bring forth children; and thy desire shall be to thy husband, and he shall rule over thee.”

I have so many issues with the text of the Christian Bible and the portrayal of the Jewish God. I have read and read and I just can not seem to justify what I read with what I feel in my own spirit. Why would an all knowing all powerful God create a being and then curse that being for behaving how it was created? It makes no sense.

If God wanted a creation that was happy with things always being the same he could have just left Male in the garden alone. It was God that decided Female was needed. Woman the intuitive, creative, naturally inquisitive, always seeking growth, life,truth and more female spirit was needed in order for Gods plan to progress.

It feels to me that there is a conspiracy against the female power and has been from the beginning. It seems to me that this has more to do with Man than it has to do with God.

Men , generally speaking, at least from my experience, do not like change. They like order and control and status quo, predictability. Some enjoy physical and mental challenges but all within the realm of control. They can navigate jungles and climb mountains but the world be damned if you rearrange the living room furniture!

So what if Adam just got pissed off because Eve came into the garden and just started changing things. What if she began planting hedge rows, organizing plants into gardens, trimming trees collecting seeds in what Adam considered to be “His” garden? What if Adam didnt like sharing the control with his female counterpart and so decided that he needed to teach her a lesson and beat her down before he lost his perceived control. What if he abused Eve and made her believe that she was less of a human than he was simply because he was physically stronger? What if he then perpetuated belief system by teaching his sons and daughters of their “places” as male and female?

What if it is all one big lie to keep the masses in control and women from walking in their true and God given power upon the Earth.

It is not too terribly difficult to figure out why I have been so fucked in the head. My childhood was appalling. The lessons taught to me and ingrained in my mind, since before I could even walk or talk, were misogynistic bullshit. Every time I felt empowered I was beaten down. Every time I spoke the truth of my little spirit I was shamed and scolded. Every time I felt pretty I was teased. Add to that the sexual abuse, the constant fear and anxiety of being found out and rejected, the confusion of having the one person that made me feel special and loved do so in a way that was so wrong.

Oh, the truth is ugly and no one really wants to hear it. But I am going to tell it anyways.

One of my first memories…

Big hands gripping my little shoulders. I am scared. I could feel the yarn of my pretty yellow sweater pressing into my skin, it was scratchy and uncomfortable. Big mad face scolding me. Daddy says he loves me. Daddy says he would never hurt me. Daddy asks if he he hurt me. Daddy’s whiskers were scratchy and tickley but he did not hurt me. I liked the way it felt. I shake my little head “no”, daddy didn’t hurt me. “Then why did you tell mommy?” The voice inside my tummy told me to tell mommy, so I told her that daddy kissed my butt. Mommy said daddy was just being silly and that I should not worry but mommy’s eyes were angry. I feel sad I got daddy in trouble. I am bad. “Do you want mommy to hate you? Do you want mommy hate me? Do you want mommy to send you away to live with strangers?” I shake me head no. I have no words. “Daddy loves you. You are daddy’s special little girl. Mommy doesn’t understand. Daddy will never hurt you. If you tell mommy again she will send you away, mommy doesn’t want me to love you because it makes mommy jealous. You don’t want to make mommy hate us do you? You don’t want to go away do you?” My head is confused. Too many questions, no time to think. I didn’t want mommy to send me away. I love mommy. I love daddy. Mommy said it was okay. Mommy said I could tell her anything. Mommy said she loved me. Mommy lied. Mommy will send me away if she isn’t happy with me. I can’t trust mommy. “Do you love daddy?” I nod yes. “Do you want to make daddy happy?” Yes, I want to make daddy happy. I like it when daddy is happy. I like daddy’s laugh and his smile. “Daddy loves you too and wants to make you happy and feel good.” Daddy hugs me. Daddy kisses my head. I cry. I am sad. I am confused. I hurt in my heart and my tummy. Daddy hugs me and rocks me and tells me he loves me. Daddy tells me he forgives me and everything will be okay. He will protect me, he loves me and he wont let mommy send me away. I just can’t tell mommy about our special times ever again. Daddy pets my hair and rubs my back and gives me kisses. Daddy makes me feel better, but my head feels broke.

After my fathers death, I asked my mother about this memory. She confirmed that it was most likely a real memory. I was between two and three years old, still in diapers. Dad had gotten me dressed after a bath and I toddled out to the kitchen after and told her, very matter of factly that, “Daddy kissed my butt!” He had kissed between my legs, my vagina, but of course I didn’t know what a vagina was at two years old. Mom said that she had asked dad about it and that she was very angry with him. She had been sexually abused as a child and so was afraid that I would be doomed to the same fate. But dad had convinced her it was just an innocent kiss on my bottom because I was just so cute. And he had promised her he would never do anything to harm me like that. She believed him, and of course, after he was done manipulating my young mind, I never told again.

To be spiritually broken and mentally manipulated at such a young age, I see now that this is where the brokenness started. This is the point where I, the real authentic I, retreated into my brain. Oh how my heart aches for that little girl. I never stood a chance. How does one ever fully recover from such a beginning as this?

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